Page 65 of A Rogues & Gentlemen Christmas

His face darkened with fury.

“And I’m the Queen of Sheba!” he retorted. “What the devil has made you say so? You’re gorgeous, Bunty. Surely you know I can’t keep my bloody hands off you? I’ve been half in love with you for… for years, wishing and hoping such a beautiful creature could be mine.”

Bunty swallowed down the emotion that made her throat feel tight on hearing those impassioned words. Instead, she reached up and touched his cheek.

“You’re an artist, Ludo. You’re a clever, talented man, and you will be a great success. I am so proud of you. I believe in you. The only thing left to do is believe in yourself.”

“That was a dirty trick,” he grumbled, but he pulled her close and she smiled up at him.

“It made my point, though. Other people have always given me their opinions, far too freely, and I always believed them. Yet, you make me see they were wrong, terribly, cruelly wrong. Let me do the same for you, love. That wretch, Farringdon, your brothers, they all made you feel worthless, and that’s so far from the truth.”

He let out a breath and nodded.

“Very well,” he said, still a little gruff. “But it will be some time before I have the courage to show anything to Henry Barbour, let me assure you.”

“That’s all right. We have plenty of time.”

The journey to Russell House was cold and tedious, but neither Ludo nor Bunty complained. Buoyed by excitement and distracted by each other, the time passed pleasantly as Ludo invented ways to keep Bunty warm. He was very good at it.

They worried as the snow fell with increasing enthusiasm: large, soft flakes tumbling from the white sky overhead and laying still and pristine over the beautiful landscape.

“How lovely it is,” Bunty said, staring out of the window.

“It is. It makes me wish I had my paints to hand but, all the same, I wish it would leave off until we’re sat in front of a warm fire.”

“We’ll get there.” Bunty ducked back under his arm and luxuriated in his warmth. Her husband was better than any hot brick for keeping warm on a long journey.

Despite being slowed by the snow, they arrived at midday. Ludo jumped out of the carriage, reaching back to help Bunty, and then gazed up at the house in wonder.

“My word, but it’s lovely. I feel like I’m dreaming. Is it really ours?”

“It is,” Bunty said, enjoying the pleasure in his eyes and his obvious happiness.

“It’s smaller than I remember,” he said with a laugh. “In my memories it’s a vast, cavernous place, but it is every bit as beautiful.”

Bunty laughed. “Well, I don’t think it’s shrunk, love, more that you’ve grown. It is beautiful, though.”

It was. A seven hundred-year-old medieval hall house overlooking the rolling Kentish countryside, the place was graceful and ancient. Elegant arched windows and an arched front door gave it a romantic feel, especially now, with its long roof dusted with snow and the chimneys coiling smoke into the sky and promising a warm welcome.

The front door opened as they walked towards it, and an older couple appeared. The lady was short and squat with iron grey hair, and a fierce expression that softened when she laid eyes on Ludo. She reached for her apron and pressed it to her mouth to muffle a little cry of delight.

“Widdy?” Ludo said, incredulous even though he’d known the old housekeeper would still be here. “Is that really you?”

“Oh,” the woman said, trying valiantly to curtsey and not to cry, nor to run and hug Ludo as she clearly wished to do. “Oh, welcome home, my lord.”

To Bunty’s delight, Ludo had no such restraint and gave her a hug, swift and enthusiastic.

“You’ve not changed a bit,” he said, delighted and earning himself a snort of disbelief. “Nor you, Mr Widdershins. I feel like a boy again.”

“Ah, and we have missed you, my lord. You and your Mama both, God rest her soul. My poor Agnes was heartbroken when they took you away. Never forgot you, she never. Always said a prayer for you on Sunday and hoped you’d marry and come back home again.”

Ludo swallowed hard and hugged Mrs Widdershins again, and this time she burst into tears.

“Oh. I knew you was unhappy,” she wailed. “I knew that horrid man didn’t treat you right, or else how would such a good boy have gone off and been so very wicked?”

She blushed and clamped her mouth shut, realising too late she’d just insulted the marquess and Ludo both, but Ludo only laughed.

“No, don’t stop there, Widdy. You’re right, of course. About all of it. I was a devilish fellow, to be sure, but I am home now, thank God, and I mean to behave, I promise. I must thank you, though, for never forgetting me and for keeping me in your prayers, and certainly for keeping the place so beautifully. It’s just how I remember it. And now, before I am accused of forgetting my manners entirely… this lovely creature is my wife. Bunty, please meet Mr and Mrs Widdershins. Mr and Mrs Widdershins, my wife, Lady Courtenay.”